


Away No More

by jesseofthenorth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up as alone as he has ever been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Away No More

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the knife wounds/lacerations square on my H/C-bingo card

“Sir! You need to be still! Sir Can you hear me? You are in the ER. You are bleeding. We're trying to help you, sir! You need to lie still.”

Dean can feel the panic at being held down until he hears the word hospital. Fuck, not again. He hates hospitals any time and never mind when he’s alone and fucked up. Alone.

The inside of his head is fucked up and scrambled but he can feel the waves of pain and darkness surrounding him. Dean can feel the pain in his abdomen and hear the doctors barking orders about blood and sutures and he can’t see Dad or Sam or Bobby anywhere. He’s here alone, doesn’t know where here is or how he got there or what got to him. He doesn’t know where he is or when he is or why there’s no one with him. Dean feels a needle go into his arm and heat flood into his veins and lets that darkness take him over.

An errant thought flits across the surface of consciousness just before he loses his grip on both. It’s not like it matters if he holds on, there isn’t anyone left who gives a shit. He lets the dark drag him down away from the pain of being completely alone.

 

Dean comes to briefly in the dark. He’s in a room with 3 other beds and the lights are dimmed. His head hurts like a bastard and he can’t make sense of why he is there or how he got there. Did he drive? Where is his baby? God, did he get blood all over the interior. What the hell happened? Before he can sift through the mess in his head Dean is defeated by pain he tries to stay awake but the darkness takes him over again.

 

He wakes to questions. It looks like late morning and a nurse is asking “Sir? Can you hear me? Sir? What is your name? Is there someone we can call?” She’s talking to him and he can’t think of what to tell her. His name is Dean but he doesn’t know what his insurance says or even if there is any insurance. The inside of his head felt like a carton of eggs dropped on the pavement. Scrambled and fractured.

“Did I hit my head?” he asks and is thoroughly shocked by the sound of his voice raw and ripped like he’d been screaming. For all Dean knows he has.

“Yes, sir, you have a concussion.” The pretty young woman leans over him. She looks worried. “We are more concerned about the lacerations on your abdomen. Can you tell me what happened?”

He can’t really though. He wishes he could so she won’t be so worried. He has no clue. He tries to say that but no sound comes out.

“Is there someone we could call?” she asks her voice gentle as if she suspects the answer.

Dean cannot make a sound now only shake his head once and turn his face into the pillow. He feels overwhelmed by loss. There is no one. He does know why, but Dean is sure he is completely irrevocably alone. He sees the faces of a pretty brunette and a dark haired-boy and feels another pang of loss as he thinks “Lisa. Ben” and he knows they are gone too.

He feels the push of morphine hit him again and this time there is no fight. He just lets it pull him down. Maybe this time he won’t come back up.

He sleeps a lot. Sometimes he dreams that Sam is there. He tries hard to hang on to those dreams. It’s what he wants most, the thing he can never have again. He doesn’t remember the details, his head is so fucked up he is lucky he remembers he had a brother, but he remembers seeing Sam fall into a gaping hole. He remembers a lot of things in very small pieces. He remembers a funeral pyre and knows it was his Dad and it was years ago. He remembers Bobby’s burnt out house and that feels new but not really new. He thinks Jo and Ellen have been dead a while too. Mostly he remembers his brother's nod right before he fell. Once in the middle of the night, laying there in the dark, Dean wonders who he pissed off badly enough to leave him here, ripped to shit and completely alone.

There is nothing to be gained thinking about it so he rolls his face toward the wall, closes his eyes and prays for a sleep so deep he never comes back.

 

He wakes again , it’s probably the third day, and there is shouting.

“I WANT TO SEE MY BROTHER!” It jolts Dean out of the half sleep he has been lounging in. He sits up clutching at his belly. Whoever is yelling is pissed. Dean tries really hard not to think it sounds a little like Sam. But Sam never got that angry, never sounded so dangerous and out of control.  
“NOW! I WANT TO SEE HIM NOW! I KNOW HE”S HERE! The EMTs brought him here! I need to see him! I need to see him right the fuck now! He’s my brother!” whoever it is might be crying a little and sounds scared. Dean is kind of glad it’s not Sam because he would never want his little brother to sound like that. To sound as bereft as that.

“Please!” the man begs and then there is only murmuring and Dean hopes someone is helping him. He lets his eyes close and lies back gingerly wanting only to drift back into the dream of him and Sam playing in the stacks of cars.

“Dean” he hears, a reverent whisper and Dean smiles at how close that dream is.

 

While he sleeps and heals and dreams Dean can feel his brother's big hand around his wrist. He thinks ’I could keep this if I didn’t open my eyes’

“Dean” he hears again. It sounds so close sand so real. “Dean, please.” He feels a grip on his wrist for real, those long fingers squeezing gently. “Dean” his brother’s voice cracks.

There is nothing on heaven or earth that will keep him away when Sam sounds like that and Dean’s eyes are open before he remembers there is no more Sam and he is alone.

Only he isn’t. Alone. Sam is there. Sitting in a chair that is too small for him looking as broken and fucked up as Dean feels.

“Dean?”

“Sammy” Dean croaks. “Are you real?”

Sam laughs. Honest to fuck laughs! “As real as you are. Are you okay?” he asks and squeezes Deans wrist gently again.

“ I hit my head.” Dean tells him.

“Man did you ever!” Sam says laughing again.

“And I think something bit me” Dean tells him trying to fight his way through the confusion.

“Claws. Something clawed you.” Sam corrects.

“Am I going to die?”

“Nope.” Sam tells him and he sounds happy finally. “Gonna take a few days but you are gonna heal right up.”

 

Dean can feel the darkness coming for him again “Are you going away?”

“NO! Dean. I am going to stay right here. If you wake up and I’m gone? It means I went to the bathroom or to get coffee.”

“Promise?” Deans asks his eyes already closing.

“Promise.” Sam says his voice close now. “You’re not alone.”

“Not any more” Dean mumbles and lets the dark take him.


End file.
